


Something wonderful

by flustereddarcy



Category: Gallagher Girls Series - Ally Carter
Genre: Action, Amnesia, Comedy, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Injury Angst, Protective Zach, Romance, and also plenty of family drama, and scared dad Zach is best zach, bex and cammie have the best friendship don't @ me, maybe some dirty stuff? but not too dirty, stepdad joe is best joe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2019-10-22 07:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17658335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flustereddarcy/pseuds/flustereddarcy
Summary: “None of us, including me, ever do great things. But we can all do small things, with great love, and together we can do something wonderful.” – Mother Teresa.A collection of moments throughout the lives of our favorites spies, mostly centered around Cammie Morgan but generally covering the major characters.





	1. small things with great love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cammie Goode has a bit of an announcement to make to her husband--but the only problem is that they're kind of on a mission. Well, she's always had bad timing, so might as well keep the streak going.

My reflexes knew what was happening before I did. Derwitz aimed a potshot at me--at the middle of me, the most important part of me as of two weeks ago--and and my instincts sent me into overdrive. Pain exploded in my side as I took the hit in a place I definitely wouldn’t have otherwise, forcing a scream of pain out of me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Zach turn, worry masking his face. I broke Derwitz’s wrist and drove a fist in an uppercut before jabbing his solar plexus; his eyes rolled back and he feel like a ton of bricks.  
  
“Cam, are you okay?” Zach asked, picking across the dead or unconscious bodies to get to me. “That was. . .sloppy?” He sounded almost shocked.  
  
“I know, I know.”  
  
His questions felt relentless, and I felt nauseous. “What happened? You never lose it like that, why did you take the hit there?”  
  
“I just--don’t worry about it, it doesn’t matter. What matters right now is searching these bodies--”  
  
“Doesn’t matter? Not to derail our mission but I’m fairly certain you at least have a bruised muscle down there, hon, that’s not gonna just fade overnight. I’ll have to stick to your right side now.” His voice grew heated, like it always did when he was worried. “It’s not like that was some new move or something. What were you thinking, going out of your way like that? It’s not like--”  
  
This was not how I had planned to break the news to him, but considering circumstances it was the way I was gonna do it anyway. I grabbed one of his gesticulating hands and pressed it to my stomach, locking eyes with him. “That is what I was thinking.”  
  
The realization melted onto Zach’s face, as if he couldn’t believe it. First disbelief, in green eyes as wide as dinner plates, and then complete shock, in his jaw hanging open, and then something that I could only equate to wonder. “You’re. . .Cam, you’re. . .”  
  
“Baby. In here.” I smiled, a laugh escaping me like a gust of air. “Are you really that surprised?”  
  
“I-I-I just--” His hands--scarred from the brawl, calloused from gunplay--encircled my waist and he held me too close for even air to come between us. I could feel him shaking. “We were trying but my brain could never. . . It never really. . .” He laughed too and pulled back to kiss me, a full-fledged open mouth situation that we hadn’t really dug into in months, and it was like the world had stopped.  
  
But then he let go and stepped back a bit, holding me at arms length. “You need to go home. Right now,” he said, almost as an order. It was like a switch had flipped in my husband: ecstatic and overjoyed to dangerously protective in a wink.  
  
I stared at him. “Zachary, don’t be ridiculous. This is our op and we’re almost done for God’s sake, we have three more days! And when else has this been a problem?”  
  
He sputtered ineffectually; from a purely objective standpoint, it looked and sounded hilarious. “Th-the whole time, honey! It’s not like this just happened at you! How long have you known?!”  
  
“Two weeks.” I braced myself for his reaction.  
  
“ _Two weeks?_ Why didn’t you tell me before we left!?”  
  
“You were gone in DC proper for a whole two days for that training. And then there wasn’t enough time for me to get a second in what, three days? I wasn’t gonna jeopardize this like that.”  
  
“What about Bex--”  
  
“She left for Lebanon a day before we came here!”  
  
Zach stilled, the same way the air came together before a storm. I knew he wasn’t going to yell at me, but I could tell he wasn’t happy. “Does Bex know?”  
  
“I--yes.” Guilt flooded me, making my cheeks redden. “I wasn’t going to tell her until after I told you! But we were at lunch in DC and she just. . .you know how she reads people. She just knew.”  
  
Zach threw up his hands. “Why didn’t she volunteer to come with me, then!? The Agency gladly would have sanctioned it!”  
  
“Her recon op in Beirut was already in the works, there was no way she could’ve dropped,” I replied, and I felt myself grow tense. My voice did the thing that Macey always called me out on, when I was being Very Serious. “And you know I don’t like you running these kinds of ops without me.”  
  
“And I don’t like doing them without you either but I don’t see how that matters anymore!” He held my face in his hands for a moment, making me focus on him, before touching my still-flat stomach. Worry gleamed in his eyes. “If we’re starting a family, Cameron, it’s a priority.”  
  
Something in me that I didn’t even realize was running wild seemed to calm down. I had never doubted Zach’s inclination as a protector, but suddenly I was seeing him as a father, and I realized I had never loved him more than I did in that moment. I kissed him, just enough for us to share the air, to remind myself that we were together. “I know that, Zach. I do. You have to have noticed how I’ve been eating, how I’ve been acting,” I replied, and I saw his mind churn back, thinking of the wine I’d refused, the different-than-usual workouts I’d done in the hotel room, the amount of water I’d been drinking.  
  
“Of course. You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said quietly, deflating a bit. “I should know that. I know you’d never put our baby in undue danger. I just. . . I worry.”  
  
_Our baby. . ._ “Oh, you worry? Bex left me a dead drop a couple of days ago that was just a book of pregnancy advice and a baby-themed Amazon gift card. And don’t even get me started on Mom, oh my gosh. . .”  
  
“Does she know too?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
“Oh no, no way. I can’t wait to surprise her and Joe, she’s gonna lose it. But this? Oh, she’s gonna kill me for this.”  
  
Zach laughed. “For what, giving her a grandkid?”  
  
“No, for taking that grandkid to fucking Slovakia. Speaking of, we need to search these guys,” I said, glancing around us at the carnage that we’d just finish having a serious discussion in.  
  
Zach tugged me forward for a kiss, one that lingered even after we pulled away, our foreheads gently touching. “I love you.”  
  
“I love you too. So much.”  
  
“I’m--Cam, I’m really excited.”  
  
I felt elated. “Me too.”


	2. daughters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe is the (step)father of the bride…allegedly, anyway. Hopefully he’ll be worthy of that title at some point, but today in particular-–Cam and Zach’s wedding day–-would a great time for him to start feeling some of that.

Not for the first time in the past ten-odd years, Joe Solomon felt like an imposter.  
  
It had taken him years to even shake the feeling with Rachel, to remind himself that yes, Matt was dead and no, there was nothing weird about falling in love with her, because for almost 20 years there truly hadn’t been a whisper of romance between them, until they were in her office late one night going over logistics for the Blackthorne tail mission and she looked at him with those fucking _eyes_ and he was a goner. When she’d asked him one night early in their relationship what had taken so long for him to just bite the bullet and ask, he hadn’t even had to say anything because she already knew--he couldn’t divest himself of the nagging idea that it _wasn’t supposed to be him_ , even though he’d long stopped telling himself he didn’t feel what he felt about her.  
  
But now, 10 years into their marriage-- _marriage_ , holy shit, the word still felt like a blessing--it felt as natural as breathing. It wasn’t some epic, world-shattering, soulmate kind of love, and he knew Rachel felt the same. No, it was something more earthy, more grounding, and it and the safehouse and the office suite and her smile all meant home; it was perhaps the purest version of “falling in love with your best friend.” Life had fallen into a steadiness, from dropping off Cameron at Georgetown for years to holding holiday dinners at the safehouse to companionably silents nights sipping whiskey with Townsend, and even babysitting the twins--more than anything, all of it simply felt right.  
  
However, that didn’t mean that there weren’t still things that made him feel. . .strange. Things that made him feel like he was a piece from a different puzzle dropped into the wrong box. And the largest of these by far was the fact that, legally speaking, he was the ‘father of the bride,’ with all the responsibilities that entailed. And so far, not a single thing had convinced him that he wasn’t a glitch.  
  
The wedding venue was as perfect as it was going to get--wine red flowers tied with navy ribbons and dusted with gold, warmly lit by tea lights, the centerpieces flawless, the chairs mathematically arranged by Liz and Macey. Not that it was at all his business, but out of the venues Cam and Zach had considered, this one had been Joe’s favorite. Not only was did it meet all of the couple’s major requirements, but it was in a place that was tricky to get to but easy to leave and even easier to surveil, meaning it had been a cinch for Rachel and Abby to pull a few favors and get all the security taken care of. Really all that was missing was the wedding itself, Zach in one room and Cam in another, and they hadn’t seen each other since early that morning. Rachel was somewhere else in the banquet hall; she’d left the small bridal room a few minutes before to help Abby wrangle a very fussy Morgan, but by now she was probably talking with the wedding planner. Bex was with Zach, presumably talking him down from whatever nervousness he felt, and Grant and Jonas were helping with a last-minute food delivery.  
  
Joe wondered, as he hovered by the door wondering if he should knock, if weddings were usually like this--didn’t bridesmaids typically hang onto the bride to help her? Didn’t groomsmen drink liquor and laugh before the ceremony? What in God’s name were the parents even supposed to be doing? But he didn’t have the biggest pool of reference, and maybe it was a slight to the current wedding to compare it to any others--Cam and Zach were anything but traditional, and in her adulthood Cam had grown to very much value her time alone, hence her solitude in the small room now.  
  
He took a steadying breath in and tapped his fist on the door. “Hey Cam, it’s ten minutes ‘till. Am I allowed in yet?” he said, trying to bring some levity and hoping he didn’t sound as uncertain as he felt.  
  
There was an extremely brief pause, then, “Yeah--yeah of course. It’s unlocked, just close the door behind you so no one sees!”  
  
Joe opened up the door and some primitively masculine part of him was relieved that the room wasn’t excessively feminine--it was tastefully pastel and the chairs and small chaise looked enviably soft. Cam was sitting at the vanity and ever-so-gently touching up her makeup, her back to the door but its mirror facing it. Based on the slight scuffing on the carpet, he discerned that she’d moved the table herself for a better position. _Noticing things_ , he half-thought, smiling to himself.  
  
“Hey there. Are you ready? How do you feel?” Joe asked.  
  
Cam sighed and smiled, barely a flicker in the mirror. “Oh, as ready as I’ll ever be. Eventually I’ll forgive Zach the ten years it took,” she joked, and carefully stood up in a flurry of white. Before Joe could modulate or alter his reaction, he heard himself take a sharp breath in, his eyes going wide. It had been a long time since he’d ever perceived Cam as a child, but for the first time, the truth of her adulthood--no, not her adulthood, but her evolution--was standing in front of him, and he didn’t know what to say, because Cameron Ann Morgan looked stunning.  
  
Cammie smiled at him widely, limply holding out her arms. “So what’s the verdict, Solomon? Do I look okay? Could I fight off a Russian mobster in this thing?” she said, her voice shaking a bit with barely-restrained emotion.  
  
“You won’t have to.” It took two steps for him to cross the distance between them and wrap his stepdaughter up in a tight hug. She hugged him back, laughing a bit and maybe even crying.  
  
Her voice was half-muffled by his blazer. “Fuck, Joe, I literally cannot afford to cry right now, this makeup took almost an hour. . .” Cam lamented, and gingerly pulled back. She took a moment to look him over, almost inspecting him. “Are you alright? I think everyone’s been stressed today.”  
  
Joe nodded and smiled. “I’m good, Cameron. Better than good.”  
  
Cam didn’t let up--if nothing else, her gaze intensified. She was uncannily like Rachel in that regard. “It’s okay, you know. You didn’t have to hesitate--you know, with coming in here and talking to me.”  
  
“I don’t--”  
  
“What I’m trying to say, Joe, is that I’m glad that it’s you. I’m glad that you’re walking me down the aisle and I’m glad that you’re _here_ ,” Cam said, and now her voice unmistakably shook even as she smiled through it. “I’m so happy that I was always a bonus to you when you married Mom, not a burden. My biological father is dead but I’ve got you.”  
  
This time she hugged him first and Joe felt very real tears start to threaten his eyes--no, there’d be time to cry later. No use in having the stepfather of the bride all red-eyed while he walked her down the aisle. He stepped back and looked at her, his smile giving way to a grin. “You picked a perfect dress, Cameron. You look beautiful.”  
  
She flushed pink. “Thank you, Joe.”  
  
“Are you nervous? How do you feel?” Joe asked, abruptly remembering that they were there for her and Zach and not him.  
  
Cam took a breath in and shook herself out, as if she were readying for a fight. “I _am_ nervous. But I don’t know why--I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, but still I. . .”  
  
Joe smiled wryly, his hands going into his pockets. “Nothing ever gets you ready for the big day, Cameron, I do know that. The day your mom and I tied the knot, I could’ve thrown up my own stomach, I was so nervous,” he said. “But that’s normal. Somehow the ring changes things, and I don’t know why. But you and Zachary are more than ready for this. So,” Joe stepped back to open the door and held out his arm for her, bowing a bit theatrically and making her laugh, “shall we go? I apparently still have to hand you over to someone even though it’s the 21st century,” he joked, and Cam rolled her eyes.  
  
“It’s all symbolic, Joe, now just shut up and walk me down the aisle,” she retorted, taking the arm he offered.  
  
He smiled down at her, and he still couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if anyone cares but Cam's wedding dress was lit fam (also u bet it had straps because she hasn't worn anything sleeveless ever since the code black fiasco)  
> The "Love Note" gown by BHLDN: https://www.bhldn.com/plunging-neckline/love-note-gown/productoptionids/fbcaeb8b-b90b-4e9a-9313-32da085940dd


	3. count your blessings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel Morgan was never good at grieving, and the only reason she can fake it is because she's got a daughter whose innocence she wants to keep intact for just a little while longer.

“How’s Cameron settling in? She’s still doing alright?” Patricia asked me rather suddenly, shifting the notepad on her lap. She didn’t startle me but the question had definitely caught me off guard.  
  
I twirled my pen in my fingers and thought of twelve-year-old Cammie-–Matt's carbon copy–-roaming the halls of the Academy for the past couple of weeks on her own, exploring places she shouldn’t have and gushing to me about the mansion’s beauty every night at dinner. “She’s good. Already loves it here.”  
  
Patricia Buckingham raised an eyebrow at me and for a moment I remembered she could see right through me like few people ever could. I sighed.  
  
“Considering…circumstances, she’s holding up well. But that’s not an entirely fair question–-it's been a few months since she's been in school and around other kids, so…this afternoon will tell.” I finished signing yet another form and pushed it aside. “She’s introverted but she makes friends a lot easier than she thinks. She’s always been such a likeable person.” _She gets that from Matt._ “I think she’ll do well here.”  
  
“Oh, a girl with her breeding and pedigree? She’ll do incredibly well,” Patricia replied, managing to coax a smile out of me. “But that’s not quite the same as settling in.”  
  
I nodded. “You’re right. But like I said, there’s nothing I can guarantee. Mentally and academically, she’ll thrive. But I can only do so much about everything else. I’m hoping her roommates will give her a bit of a boost.”  
  
“Remind me who shares her dormitory?”  
  
“Rebecca Baxter and Elizabeth Sutton, you know, the genius from eastern Alabama who breezed through all the testing?” I replied.  
  
Patricia laughed aloud. “What a remarkable coincidence, Headmistress,” she teased.  
  
“I might’ve pulled a few strings there,” I said with a small grin. “Plus, Grace and Abe wanted that peace of mind, sending their only daughter across the pond.”  
  
“They’ve not met Cameron, have they?”  
  
“No, but…” The memories of Matt hit me like a knife to my stomach, sharp and purposeful. Their eyes--his and hers--were always the same, gentle and full of kindness and too much trust, too much willingness to open up, their laughter infectious. It terrified me to know that I’d never be able to think of Cam without the painful thoughts of him accompanying it. “I don’t think they need to.”  
  
The warmth–-careful and understanding but not patronizing, never that from her-–on Patricia’s face somehow managed to settle me for a moment. “I’m inclined to agree.”  
  
I laughed a little-–thank God I could laugh-–and pushed some hair back into the comfortably professional updo I’d created that morning. Matt was always so careful when he'd fix my hair, like he almost wasn’t thinking, but he locked eyes with me every time–-  
  
“Rachel.”  
  
I needed to stop doing that. "Mm?"  
  
Patricia’s voice was steady and solemn. "You are allowed to feel. I want you to know that, dear,” she said, and the term of endearment took me right back to when I was a student within those very same walls. “This is allowed to hurt.”  
  
Frankly, I despised talking about Matthew. Reason told me to temper my faith that he was still alive out there somewhere, but love was what kept it lit on fire. Matt was not my first death-–far from it–-but it was the hardest, the most unexpected. And so for that reason, I’d taken immediate precautions: a mission meant to exorcise the physical pain that took the form of three days spent in a gruesome whirlwind in Beirut; quickly making arrangements to leave the home we’d built together; having a good cry with my in-laws, my trust in them still a surprise after all these years; and getting a job that would force me to focus on anything but him. But the face across the desk from me, with twenty years of knowing me and forty more of field experience, threatened to shatter me.  
  
“Do you think it’s not?” I said, and my voice felt so fragile. “Do you think I’m repressing? Or avoiding?”  
  
“Rachel–”  
  
“I’m not, Patricia. I’ve felt everything I can about this, gone through all five stages–-the rest is just plain old grief.” I let out a shaky breath and fiddled under my desk to find the picture that no one else on earth knew I had, save for my sister. I heard Patricia’s breath catch in surprise, watched her eyes widen. “I have felt _everything_. And I won’t forget any of it. But now I have a job to start, and it won’t wait on this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know ya'll wanna see Bex and Cammie content so if there's any suggestions please message me with them--I love their friendship but I'm not the best at coming up with ideas for it.


	4. teach your children well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither of them can remember the last time they really had the chance to _talk_.

Our chairs screeched as we went to file out from one of our many, many meetings to debrief from our insane senior year, but Mom stopped me.  
  
“Cam, hold on. Stick around for a sec,” she said. Unsurprisingly, Bex and Zach both paused too, and Liz and Macey hovered near the door; Mom waved them off. “Don’t worry, we won’t be long. Go back to your rooms, you two.”  
  
Bex just kind of shrugged and nodded before dragging Zach along behind her; they left the door open behind them.  
  
“How’s your arm feeling, kiddo?” Mom asked. She wasn’t glaring and she didn’t look sad, but her eyes didn’t move from me.  
  
I shrugged. “It’s ok. Hurts sometimes but only if I strain myself. Zach opens literally every door for me,” I replied, rolling my eyes.  
  
Mom smiled. “Of course. As he well should.”  
  
“I--Mom, do you. . .do you like Zach at all?” I asked, almost without my own consent. It was something I’d mulled over for ages, ever since sophomore year, but I’d never really had the desire or chance to ask and hear the answer. Maybe I was just afraid to hear it.  
  
At that, Mom chuckled a bit. “That’s a loaded question.”  
  
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”  
  
“Zach is a fine person, even if he doesn’t quite think so just yet. He’s intelligent, kind, a talented spy, and a well-mannered young man overall.” Mom grinned, making me turn pink. “Not to mention he’s definitely over the moon for you. Why do you ask?”  
  
“Well, I just--I guess me and him are _official_ now, like boyfriend-girlfriend. I suppose it would’ve been official a bit sooner but. . .you know. And he’s my date to the wedding, so I figured it’d be good to know if my mom likes him.”  
  
Mom nodded. “I do. He’s a good kid--well, a good _man_. He’s not a kid anymore. He takes care of you; as your mother, that’s really all I can ask for,” she replied. “But we’re getting off track--that’s definitely not why I’ve kept you.”  
  
Almost as a reflex--too many Important Talks over the years--I sat down in the nearest chair. “So why _have_ you?”  
  
There was a pause--an exhale, really--before Mom smiled at me. “I wanted to know how you’re doing, sweetie. You’ve had a hell of a time, to put it lightly. I only ever see you flanked by Zach or the girls, like they’re your bodyguards.” She moved to sit next to me.  
  
“I didn’t ask for them to do that.”  
  
“And yet they do it anyway. They care a lot, sweetie,” Mom said, and her voice was a little bit softer. Not for the first time, I remembered that, while I’d had endured a lot over the past year, my mother had been forced to _watch_ me endure it, and was often helpless to do anything about it. She paused, then, “I know I said earlier this semester that you don’t even need me anymore--”  
  
“I’m always gonna need my mom,” I said easily, because it was true. I knew I was lucky to have such a healthy and honest relationship with my mother, and, in our business, even luckier to see her so often. I didn’t think our Sunday nights would stop just because I was moving to D.C., let’s put it that way.  
  
She smiled again and it was almost. . .sad. “You know what I mean, kiddo. And, honestly, I can’t say that’s been easy for me to realize.”  
  
That threw me off. “I--what? I mean, it’s not like I'm one of those kids who's got, like, separation anxiety. I visit Grandma and Grandpa, you go on missions. I guess we _do_ live in the same building but. . .”  
  
“I mean, Cameron, that you’re gonna be _on your own_ , in college. I’m gonna have to let go, for real this time. That’s not easy for any parent.”  
  
“Are you. . .nervous?”  
  
Mom nodded, reaching forward to fix my hair. “Well yes. I’m relieved, for starters. It’s been a pretty frightening time, sweetie, and I’m just happy that you want to go, and that you _can_ go,” she explained.  
  
I don’t know what possessed me to be so glib about my own mortality, especially in front of my own mother, but the answer was coming out of me before I could stop it. “And that I’m alive enough to go?”  
  
Her hand tensed just a bit--it was one of the only tells she had that I knew about. “Precisely. But back to my original question. How are you? How are you really?”  
  
“I’m. . .” But then my voice trailed off, because I’d been midway through my usual lie of ‘I’m fine’ before I realized that my mom deserved more than that. Her gaze was gentle and discerning and careful, like she didn’t want to scare me away. I managed to smile and mean it. “I’m doing better than I was last week, and then the week before, and the week before that. My arm is still kinda iffy, but I’m getting a lot of mobility back--I can do twenty push ups now, ten with Liz sitting on me. And I’m mostly caught up on my COW homework, and on my C&A homework. And I’m. . .I’m good, Mom. I’ve got a lot to look forward to.”  
  
Mom’s smile--relieved, happy, comforting--said more than her words ever could.  
  
“Like your upcoming wedding, for example, _mother_. . .”  
  
At that, she leaned back in her chair, again looking world-weary but for the best of reasons. “Oh, that old thing. You know, we’ve been pretty lucky--so much has been going on that people have either forgotten it’s happening or have the tact not to nag us about it.”  
  
“Oh no, I broke the streak,” I said, completely deadpan, and Mom laughed. That particular aspect of my humor was all from her.  
  
“Yeah, shame on you. The first time around was so long ago, I have no idea how to do any of this now. Joe and I would just disappear somewhere and all that. . .but Abby would go absolutely nuclear.”  
  
I knew it wouldn’t happen--Mom and Joe would never do that to everyone else--but the idea of it made my eyebrows fly up. “Wait, you’ve considered eloping? Are you serious, Mom?!”  
  
Mom shrugged. “Of course we have. Not as a slight to other people, but just as. . .favor to ourselves, I suppose,” she explained, and never in my life had I seen my superheroic mother ever really look shy until then.  
  
“Well, please don’t! I’ve only been to like, two weddings! And never as an adult! Well, an adult or a teenager. I mean, like, I knew what was going on, but like--What I’m saying is that I would like to go to a wedding that I actually care about,” I said. “Plus, don’t you have the honeymoon to just disappear?”  
  
“That's. . .a fair point, actually.” Mom smiled and looked at me like she wanted to commit me to memory. "I'm so proud of you, Cameron. You know that, right?"  
  
I nodded. "Of course I do, Mom." I couldn't say what I was thinking then-- _I have a lot to live up to. I hope I make you proud. I hope I make Joe proud. I hope I make Dad proud._ Then again, knowing my mother, she probably knew that already--that had to be why she hugged me so tightly, enough to answer my raging thoughts. I could almost hear it:  
  
_It's okay, kiddo._  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking some liberties here with the time skips in United We Spy, particularly in the last 50-60 pages or so.


	5. handsome stranger, you have made her happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life-threatening injuries on a mission? Not great. Temporary short-term amnesia resulting from those injuries? Well, that's almost hilarious. 
> 
>  
> 
> _[I'm not particularly happy with the United We Spy epilogue, but I respect Ally Carter and her canon, so this chapter generally follows its timeline. Let's say it takes place six months to a year afterward that epilogue.]_

Zach was up _late_. Late wasn’t even the right word, really--"late" implied that it was dark out, that the world outside was dead. But that wasn’t the case; dawn was just beginning to break, and the people with the earliest daytime jobs were probably just starting to wake up or get their coffee or even kiss their kids goodbye. It was early-late, and Zach had been up for almost thirty-nine hours without sleep, because as long as Cam wasn’t awake, he had to be.

The mission in Caracas had mostly gone fine, and in fact they’d finished all their objectives as cleanly and efficiently as the pair were known for. It had been a harder op than usual, though, with more fighting than what was typical, meaning that both of them were already nursing an array of minor injuries. But there had been a loose end in the form of a very-much brainwashed terrorist cell member, and he’d ambushed them out of the blue.

He’d most likely seen Cam first, which was why she’d taken the brunt of the attack before Zach could get involved: gunshot to her ribcage followed by a melee fight that she’d lost spectacularly due to the surprise and pain, not to mention her head was probably spinning. Zach had managed to knock the man out and then choke him to death, but precious time had been wasted while he’d disposed of the body, leaving his already very strung-out fiance to slowly bleed out.

The extraction had been unbelievably fast, so fast that Zach had been suspicious until learning that Abby was the person handling it. “Oh, the squirt doesn’t get to die while I’m in charge,” she’d said before promptly using clandestine channels to let Rachel know where her kid was being sent.

Fast-forward by six hours of surgery, two hours of debrief, two more hours of paperwork, an hour of psych eval, and five more hours of waiting, and there Zach was at a hidden government hospital outside of Arlington, waiting for Cammie’s sleep medication to wear off. He knew that he probably looked just a little bit crazy--the shower Joe had insisted he take (“kid you _smell_ , it’ll take two minutes”) had helped a bit, and he’d changed into his worn-in-est jeans and his trustiest flannel. But he still hadn’t slept or even relaxed, which meant that he looked gaunt and visibly exhausted. He took a bite of the apple he’d been working at and turned a page in his book--he wasn’t invested in its narrative, he just needed something to do besides worry.

Rachel and Joe had been in and out of the hospital, her handling the various needs of a boarding school in the summer and him working with the agency task force he was on. And apparently it was one of the former’s “in” times: Rachel strode in at half past six a.m., just as Zach was getting down to the core of his apple, and kindly passed him a napkin from her purse.

“Thanks.”

She nodded, settling in next to him. “Any word?”

“No change yet--alive and patched up, but still very much out. They said they’d let us know when she started to come to, so. . .” He motioned vaguely towards the hospital room door before taking a final bite and then tossing the core into the trash can a few yards away.

“Sounds about right. I’m not sure what I expected,” she said wryly.

Zach bookmarked his page. “Where’s Abby?”

“Caught up. She probably won’t make it until after Cam’s awake. Same goes for Edward, especially considering the twins.”

"That’s probably for the best. She won’t be all there, I think, so too many cooks in the kitchen would just disorient her,” Zach remarked, knowing how paranoid she could be when she was groggy.

Rachel smiles for real, shaking her head a bit. Both of them know that,while that particular subset of her behavior doesn’t come from the best place (they know that _far_ too well), Cam’s attempts at being intimidating or suspicious while also half-high on painkillers or mostly-asleep were honestly hilarious, and also kind of cute.

He’d never tell her that, though.

~ ~ ~

He had just started the third-to-last chapter (wow he was really breezing through this book--but did that mean it was good or he was bad?) when Dr. Helprin came out of Cam’s hospital room after being in there with a nurse for a few minutes.

“She’s perfectly stable, I’m glad to report. She’s just starting to wake up, so she can see one or two people at a time. But take it slow--she might not have her short-term memory all intact just yet,” she explained, looking comfortably sympathetic.

Zach knew that his eyes went comically wide, and next to him his future mother-in-law (in three months? Is he really marrying Cam in _three months_?!) stifled a laugh.

“Is--is that normal?” he demanded.

Helprin nodded but Rachel was the one who spoke. “Very much normal. It’s happened to me too,” she said.

It took another moment for that to set in--the fact that _his person_ might not recognize him, or recognize her own mother--before he glanced to his right. “So, um, should we flip a coin?” he joked.

“No, no you go first,” Rachel said, waving him off. Tactfully, Dr. Helprin left the scene.

“I--”

“Go ahead. I’ll be out here.” She lowered her voice. “You make her feel safe, Zach. Please go and do that for her now.”

 _Oh._ “Um. . . Yes. Yeah, ok.” Somehow, even though he and Cammie have been together for almost a third of their lives, and known each other for even longer, he’s endlessly amazed by how much she _trusts_ him, how much she wants him around her. He stood up and wiped his hands ineffectually on his jeans before quietly entering the hospital room and sitting down inside, right next to Cam’s bed.

Her heartbeat was steady and slow, her unmoving arm attached to an IV bag and her head turned just slightly to the left. Breaths from her nose made her hair twitch and, if she were awake, it would probably tickle. Bizarrely, Zach thought about how much he liked her current haircut, her natural dishwater blonde fading into something a bit lighter at the tips and trimmed to her shoulders--she rarely wore it up, and instead constantly pushed it out of her face and worked the part around, each strand falling perfectly, and he could watch her do that all day and be happy.

There wasn’t a “hi” or “who are you” “or “huh”--instead, there was just a dull but unmistakable grumble as Cam woke up, her eyes blinking the world into focus.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. How do you feel?” he asked, trying not to smile so much that his enthusiasm would scare her.

Cam was definitely still tired, but somehow she was capable of sarcasm anyway. “Like a pile of shit to be honest. What--what’s going on? Why do I feel like that?”

Zach fought the urge to hold her hand (her _left_ hand, the one closest to him, the one with the ring that he’d found in an antique store in Dupont Circle and wanted for her immediately). “You got pretty badly hurt, but the doctor fixed you up and you’re resting now.”

She nodded as well as she could, very actively not touching him but not pushing away either. Her eyes focused on him but then give way to--surprise? “Who--are you my doctor?”

“I--no.”

“Then who are you? No one as hot as you works at a hospital unless issa fake hospital,” she said, her voice a bit slurred, and Zach’s heart skipped a beat. There was almost a sense of wonder in her, as if she was seeing him for the first time or they’d just met on the street moments before. “You’re literally the handsomest guy I’ve ever seen. Your name’s gotta be, like, Dr. Dreamy or something.”

Oh God, he hadn't been expecting that whatsoever.

Zach knew he'd gone as red as a tomato, because a) who just _calls_ someone that? “Most handsome guy” and “Dr. Dreamy?” She was such a dork and he loved her _so_ damn much, and b) she was groggy and half-conscious, and just calling the world as she saw it--so that was really how she felt about him, wasn’t it? Sure they shared pet names and all that, real ones and sexy ones and dumb joke ones, but simply hearing her call him handsome because she thought he was and wanted him to know gave him butterflies. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what to say. “I--thank you. That’s--that’s a very kind thing to say.”

“Well, it’s true. You’re a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure,” she mumbled, still bleary even as she smiled at him.

For Bex’s sake, he couldn’t pass up this chance. He leaned down a bit. “Well, you wanna hear a secret?”

“Mmhm.”

“I’m your fiancé. You and me are _engaged_.”

Cam’s eyes went wide, as wide as saucers, and she gaped at him. “Wait, what? I’m engaged to you?!” she gasps. A pause, and she glanced down at her left hand to confirm the presence of a ring; if possible, her eyes got even bigger. “That means I dated you. How did I do that? Why did _you_ do that?”

Zach chuckled. “You made it really easy,” he replied. He realized that, even though all of this was objectively hilarious, he didn’t want her to feel like she was being tricked. He did the best he could and pulled out his phone. “See--evidence right here.” He flicked through the recent photos he had of them: Outer Banks vacation, hiking trip, finishing a 10k on the National Mall, and a particularly candid shot of Cam gauging the difference between berry and marsala color swatches at a Sherwin-Williams.

“Holy shit, that _is_ me and you. Damn, I must be the luckiest girl to ever exist.” She smiled at him dreamily for a moment, but then her expression became a bit more serious as she glanced down at the picture then back. “You look tired, compared to the photo. Are you okay?”

Her heart melted in his chest. Even exhausted and doped-up, she was still worried about him. What had he done to deserve her? “I’m fine now, Cammie. I was just worried about you.”

“Was I badly hurt?”

All he could do was nod, his hand curling around hers.

“Oh. Oh, well. . .you should rest anyway. I’m ok, see?” There was an innocent sort of certainty in her voice and suddenly Zach wanted nothing more than to let the sound of her heartbeat lull him to sleep. “You should get some rest, it’s important. Your fiancée will be very mad if you don’t do that.”

Against his better judgment, he smiled, almost laughing. “Oh, will she?”

“She’ll be very cross with you. Can’t get married if you don’t sleep.”

“ _What_?”

Cam turned away, shaking her head and blushing and throwing her non-IV arm over her eyes. “My head is all fuzzy. That made more sense before I said it. Um--marrying someone happens after you ask, and for an ‘after’ you have to sleep for days to pass, so. . .”

At that point, Zach was nearly shaking with laughter. “No, no, hon, it follows, kind of. Maybe you should go to sleep too, huh?”

She shook her head adamantly--or as adamantly as she could for still being heavy with post-surgery fog. “No, you.”

“No, you.”

“No, _you_. Don’t be an asshat. Go to sleep!”

He pulled out the big guns. “Do you want me to bring your mom in here? She’s a professional at telling people what to do,” he said, and knew that Joe was nodding in agreement somewhere.

Again, her expression became a bit surprised. “My mom’s here?”

“Yeah, right outside. You wanna see her?”

Cam nodded firmly, and it was adorable ( _and maybe he was just a bit jealous, but don’t linger on that_ ) that, even half-aware of her own identity, she clung to the idea of seeing her mother.

Zach went to the door to let Rachel in, and her head shot up from her novel with such speed that perhaps she hadn’t been looking down in the first place. “She’s up?”

“Messy, but it’s coming back to her. She said she wanted to see you.”

Relief washed away the tension that she carried like it was her job, and she wordlessly nodded and grabbed her book and her bag and switched places with him without missing a beat. Zach flopped down into his former seat, his body threatening to simply shut down now that it was allowed to. Feeling like he was being watched, he looked up just in time to see Abby smirking at him from next to the door.

“C’mon, kid. Sloppy,” she said, wagging a finger.

Zach rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know, needle-sized bolt to the shin, dead in ten. Good thing I’m in this hospital, then, right?”

“Good thing it was me.” She sat down next to him, on the opposite side from her sister’s vacated chair. “How’s Cam?”

“Fine. Trying her best to be alert before she’s actually alert and failing neatly. It’s as precious as it sounds.” Zach tried to hide the lingering mirth he knew he felt but Abby saw right through it.

“What?”

“She didn’t recognize me. She said I was cute, presumed I was her doctor, and called me Dr. Dreamy.”

Abby immediately burst out laughing and abruptly slapped a hand over her mouth, closing her eyes. “No shit, really?”

He nodded, grinning. “Yep. She had no idea that she was, _ahem_ , spoken for, either. I can’t do it justice for Bex, that’s the real tragedy.”

“Yeah, she’ll be furious she missed this.” Abby’s eyes focused on the door. “I’m glad Cammie’s okay, though. I swear it’s like you two and then the twins are competing to just rapidly age me.”

“If it makes you feel better, we _are_ very sorry,” Zach said, hoping he sounded contrite; judging by the middling-force punch that hit his shoulder, he did not. “Ouch! You’re not this mean to _her_."

“Yeah, well, you're an easy target.” She glanced at him, and not for the first time he realized that while she Rachel didn’t have the same eye color, they did have the same searing, see-right-through-you kind of gaze. “I’m grateful you had her back out there, Zach. And she will be too, once she’s up.”

Again, a feeling of warmth seeped into his bones, as if he was watching Cam smile at him like he was the sun again. “I’m just glad she lets me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Handsome stranger you have made her happy,  
>  The first in a long time!  
> Did you just whisper in her ear?  
> Words she only dreamed to hear?  
> Pretty lady,  
> Look at how he's smiling,  
> I think he likes you!"_
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0TAJwGniuUs


End file.
